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The Chimes of Easter

I woke early this Easter Sunday morning, which in and of itself is not unusual: I wake early every morning, even on weekends.  But this morning was Easter Sunday, and when I woke I began to think of that first Easter, and Mary Magdalene's experience there. I thought of the shock and disbelief she must have known as she came to the empty tomb. I thought of what she might have been feeling as she processed this unexpected scene.  Then I heard the chimes of Easter. A few months ago we added a set of chimes in our yard that ring out with velvety smooth tones. Since they are a bit larger than the other set of chimes we have, they tend to only sing out when the breeze is strong.  This morning, though, I heard them, and listened to them. What was so beautiful is that they were silent, and then slowly, one chime was struck ever so gently, and from that one chime a dulcet and sweet tone came forth. A gentle, caressing and reassuring tone.  And I realized that this singular chime was calling

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